


Holofield of Dreams

by JWood201



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Baseball, F/M, Gen, Holodeck, Imzadi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 20:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JWood201/pseuds/JWood201
Summary: During/after "The Child."For the briefest moment, he wasn't a being of unknown origin. He wasn't growing at alarming rates. He wasn't seen by most of her crewmates as a potential threat. He was just a little boy on his way to his first baseball game with his family.





	Holofield of Dreams

 

She sat in the dark, knees pulled up to her chest, in the middle of her empty bed. Waiting.

Every night at exactly twenty three hundred hours, her door chimed once, twice, but no longer a third time, not after the first four days. Her visitor waited outside for approximately twenty seconds, and then departed. For the first four days, it was longer, sometimes more than a full minute. Sometimes he'd rest his forehead against the door and whisper her name so quietly that no one passing in the hall would hear. But she would. She'd sit motionless in the dark, holding her breath, until he left. She'd hear him rattling around next door for about an hour, and then the uneasy silence of restless sleep.

Of course she could feel him coming down the hall, usually a big ball of energy and light, a powerful comforting presence. Lately she felt him more quietly, more reverently. She felt his anxiety and hope as he announced his presence once, twice, but no longer a third time. She felt his defeat when she didn't come to the door and his quiet acquiescence when he left. She felt his frustration and sadness as he lay in the dark only a few yards away in an identical bed staring up at an identical ceiling. She felt his uncharacteristic loneliness. She was always equal parts grateful and disappointed that he never used his security override to let himself into her quarters. In another time, he would have, and she wouldn't have minded.

She waited in the dark, staring straight ahead at the wall, eyes hot and dry. She glanced at the chronometer beside her bed, it's glowing numbers illuminating the purple baseball cap next to it. Twenty three hundred hours. She opened her mind up ever so slightly to the hallway outside. Nothing. She extended her range to encompass the turbolift at the end of the hall. Silence. Just Dr. Pulaski in her quarters two doors down, frowning as she reviewed some medical files. Hers, no doubt.

Deanna's heart ached for her best friend. Not that Pulaski wasn't a highly skilled physician and a perfectly nice woman, but she would've preferred to share the last week and a half with Beverly. She wanted Beverly to deliver her baby. She wanted Beverly to smile down at him, to announce him to the world, to place him in her arms and give her advice about raising a boy.

She focused her mind on the silent cabins on either side of her. She had never felt so alone in the vastness of space. This floating city of over a thousand souls suddenly seemed deserted. To her left, Beverly's rooms were dark and empty, devoid of any kind of life, waiting to be refit and turned over to someone else. Wesley had moved in with some of his friends in the dorm-style cabins and was undoubtedly having the time of his life without his mother around. To her right, Will's quarters were empty as well, but hummed faintly with the energy of being lived in, of being a home.

Where was he?

She had no intention of opening the door tonight either, but she wanted him to try anyway. She had come to rely on his attempts. Although she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him comfort her, not yet, the fact that he tried was comfort enough for now.

_Where are you?_

* * *

**One Week Earlier**

Deanna sat at her desk trying to get some –  _any_  – work done, a task made near impossible by the cacophony erupting behind her. Alternately metallic, mysterious, and trumpeting, the blasts and bleats were punctuated by yelps of surprise, words of encouragement, and tiny giggles. She rubbed her temples in agony, but smiled down into the PADD on her desk anyway.

Half an hour earlier, Will appeared at her door with his trombone in one hand, his other hand behind his back, and a big grin on his face. Deanna was about to tell him not to bother lecturing her and to send him away when Ian peeked out from behind her and she realized that Will wasn't there to see her at all.

Will strode into the room and presented the boy with a tiny replicated trombone, which Ian took with wide-eyed reverence – not because he knew what it was, but because he was the equivalent of four years old and it was shiny.

And so Deanna sat, trying to get a few critical pieces of work done, while Will taught Ian how to play an ancient Earth ditty called "Take Me Out To The Ball Game." She was barely one sentence into a message to her mother when Ian sneezed into his trombone and she nearly fell out of her chair.

Ian was staring into the instrument in bewilderment when she turned around to retrieve the PADD from the floor. "Will, I know you mean well, but –."

"Say no more, Counselor. Ian, how would you like to learn how to play baseball instead of just a song about it?"

"Baseball?"

"Will –."

"I overheard the Captain and Dr. Pulaski talking about coming to see you again at noon." He looked up and held Deanna's gaze. "If we leave now, we'll just miss them."

Deanna's gratitude crashed over him so suddenly that it surprised even her and without further discussion Will scooped Ian up hustled them both into the hallway. Will grabbed Deanna's hand, pulling her along behind them as he ran toward the Holodeck.

Ian smiled at her reassuringly over Will's shoulder. Deanna grinned back, her curls bouncing around her head as they ran, and for the briefest moment he wasn't a being of unknown origin. He wasn't growing at alarming rates. He wasn't seen by most of her crewmates as a potential threat. He was just a little boy on his way to his first baseball game with his family.

The sound enveloped them immediately. The noise of tens of thousands of people cheering was deafening, and yet blended perfectly into an oddly monotone din with only occasional whistles and chants breaking free. They emerged from a dark concrete vom into the bright sunlight and both Betazoids recoiled from the sudden change.

Will inhaled deeply and sighed. "Sweat, hot dogs, and stale beer."

"Lovely. Where are we?"

"Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Earth. The sixth game of the 1980 World Series. Behold the Great American Pastime."

Deanna took a few tentative steps further into the light and gasped at the magnitude of the space before her. The open coliseum-like structure was filled to the brim with screaming fans. When an unseen announcer wasn't narrating the action, music blared constantly. If the 65,000 people in attendance hadn't been holograms, Deanna would have been completely incapacitated by the heightened emotions of so many in such a confined space.

When she turned around, Will was already halfway up the stairs toward three empty seats. She hurried after him and filed into the row as Will deposited Ian in the plastic seat between them.

"Computer," Will summoned and the familiar chime rang out over the manufactured cheering. "A beer, an extra large soft pretzel, and a cheesesteak for the Counselor." Deanna raised her eyebrows and he grinned. "Trust me."

A tray materialized on his lap and Will handed Ian a soft pretzel as big as his head. The boy stared at it, inspected it from all sides, and took a tentative sniff before Will put his hand on his arm to still him. "Just eat it. With or without?" he asked Deanna as he handed her the sandwich.

"With or without what?"

"With," Will told the computer.

Deanna gaped at the bright yellow gooey substance that materialized on top of her sandwich. "What  _is_  that?"

"Cheese."

"No, it's not."

"No," he conceded, "it's not technically, but it's good."

Will slid the tray under his seat and leaned back in the ancient plastic chair. He looked every bit the stereotypical all-American dad as he stretched his arm out across the back of Ian's chair and took a sip of his beer, eyes transfixed on the game. Next to him, Ian still hadn't ventured past licking the pretzel. Will glanced over at Deanna, who was staring at him.

"What?"

"You're content."

"Yes. I am." He toasted her with his frosted glass. "Eat your cheesesteak. Ian, you'll insult the fine people of Philadelphia if you don't try that pretzel." He gestured toward a crowd of rowdy fans across the row and Ian's eyes widened. "They're loud because they're passionate. Don't worry." He ruffled the boy's hair good-naturedly, unconsciously, and winked at Deanna before he turned back to the game.

Deanna felt a smile pull at the side of her mouth and she looked back down into her sandwich. She was trying to decide which method of approach would be the least messy when she felt Will watching her. Ian was halfway through his pretzel, salt sprinkling down the front of his shirt like the Alaskan snow she'd seen in the Holodeck.

"You're not," he said and she froze.

"What?"

"Content." Of course he knew that. "I was awful in the briefing the other day. I'm so sorry."

Deanna waited for him to justify his actions, to get defensive and make excuses, but he didn't. He just squeezed her shoulder briefly and turned back to the game.

"I know," she said softly. "I felt you across the room. Like a tidal wave. Confusion, shock, an unexpected sense of … disappointment and loss." She glanced up at him, but he stared straight ahead at the field and took a deliberate sip of his replicated beer.

"This is as much for you as for him," he said suddenly. "Enjoy him. Enjoy things with him. Pulaski's not going to show up here with a tricorder. Worf's not going to toss him in the brig. You don't have to tell your mother for another few hours. Relax."

Around them, the crowd continued to cheer, the players continued to run around in incomprehensible circles, and the bright yellow cheese continued to seep into her sandwich. Deanna glanced up and gasped. "Will! Look!" She pointed at a green creature cavorting around the field wearing an extra large baseball shirt and giant shoes. "They made first contact long before we thought! Why didn't we know about this? It's a brand new species!" She hit him on the arm. "Stop laughing! This changes everything!"

"Settle down, Deanna."

"Settle down," Ian echoed and Will burst out laughing again.

"It's just the mascot."

"The  _what_? Ian, don't laugh at me."

"A man in costume. Every team has one."

" _Why?_ "

Will shrugged. "They're funny. Look at him." The creature had commandeered some sort of four-wheeled vehicle and was driving erratically around the field, sticking its tongue out at the players and shaking its ample bottom in time to the music. Will and Ian were giggling at the creature's antics as only boys could.

Deanna frowned. "Maybe you two shouldn't spend too much time together."

"Forget it, we're best friends now. Right, Ian?"

Ian tested out the new word. "Friends."

Will fixed her with a pointed look. "Deal with it, Counselor."

"Listen," Ian said suddenly. It was the first conversation he had initiated, the first time he wasn't directly responding to a question or a prompt. Ian scrambled around until he was standing on his seat. Will and Deanna stared up at him and the deafening din of voices around them seemed to recede into the background as the strains of the near-constant music became more prominent. Ian pointed into the sky. Pure white clouds drifted over the light blue expanse. "Our song," he said simply, and the seemingly random notes organized themselves into a recognizable melody.

_Take me out to the ball game._  
_Take me out with the crowd._  
_Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack.  
_ _I don't care if I never get back._

Ian stared reverently into the distance, thinking over the awe-inspiring fact that something he connected with the starship was also true in this stadium. Other people knew about Will's baseball song. How was that possible?

The rest of the crowd had begun singing – or, more accurately, yelling – along and every sound in the stadium suddenly came crashing down around Deanna's ears with its full volume. Something happened on the field and the group behind them began screaming at the umpire only milliseconds before the rest of the stadium followed suit. Deanna screwed her eyes shut and slammed her hands over her ears as Ian crouched down on his seat in a tight ball. A wad of napkins appeared over their heads and floated toward the field and the rest of the group behind them soon followed suit, hurling obscenities, threats, and whatever they could grab down on deaf ears. A handful of popcorn rained over them, sticking in Deanna and Ian's curls.

"Freeze program!" Will yelled and the instant silence was jarring. Deanna slowly opened her eyes. The crowd was frozen in grotesque poses, mid-yell, arms raised in defiance. Makeshift projectiles floated in the air around them like dirty stars. A cup of soda hung upside down above Ian's head, ice cubes and brown liquid suspended in mid-air.

Deanna pulled Ian into her lap, but he didn't uncoil. She lowered her head toward his and whispered something Will couldn't hear.

"I knew Philly fans had a reputation for being … avid. Computer –."

"Maybe we should go home," Deanna said as the computer chirped its acknowledgement.

"Status of program Ian Troi 1?"

Deanna's head snapped up. "You wrote him a program?"

"Program complete." Of course she was imaging it, but the computer sounded mildly conspiratorial and pleased with itself.

Will grinned. "Load program."

The scent of warm grass greeted Deanna before her eyes adjusted. The odor of sweat, hot dogs, and stale beer was long gone. The stadium, fans, alien creature, and floating soda were gone. They were seated on a felled tree, Ian still curled up in her lap. The sun shone down in visible rays, warming her face and illuminating the particles that hung in the hazy, languorous air. There was a field before them, the grass matted down in a rough diamond shape by years of tiny feet running the same path. Old pillows marked the four corners and the place in the center for the player who throws the ball. In the distance, snow-capped mountains, lush evergreen trees carpeting their flanks. At their base, a stream, cool and sparkling. The area felt calm and peaceful, filled with happy childhood memories.

Will knelt down in front of Deanna and waited for Ian to emerge from his cocoon. He had on a red baseball cap, backwards, and his hair flopped childishly out over his forehead. Deanna smiled. "Nice hat. Is this Alaska?"

"Science blue for the Counselor," he said, presenting another cap to her very grandly. "Although I don't know how it'll fit over that hair." She scowled at him, but took the hat as Ian peeked up at Will. "And for my Number One – Betazoid purple. Nothing but the best for the Son of the Fifth House." Will pulled the cap on over the boy's curls as he scrambled into a sitting position on Deanna's lap. He already seemed taller than when they first entered the Holodeck that afternoon. "Are you ready to learn how to play?"

Ian nodded and slid off her knees into the grass as Will stood. "Coming, Counselor? I'm a wonderful teacher." He tossed a baseball into the air and caught it deftly. "Although I may have to stand close behind you to help you hold the bat properly the first time."

"No, thank you, Commander," she said, ignoring his smirk. "I'll leave this mission up to you." She nodded at Ian, who had wandered a few yards away and plopped down on the ground. He was analyzing a blade of grass with the utmost scientific concentration. "Good luck."

"Ian!" he called and the boy looked up. "Let's go." Ian scrambled to his feet and ran back to follow Will out onto the field. Deanna removed her headband and the pins holding her hair up and slipped the blue baseball cap onto her head. Her hair fell down around her shoulders and hung almost to her waist. "After this," Will was saying, "you can learn how to swim and how to sled, we'll have Christmas, and then –."

"One adventure at a time, Will."

He paused and turned around. She felt a flicker of anxiousness, a faint sense of foreboding. Outwardly, he grinned at her. "Nice hat. Are you sure you don't want to play?"

"No. I'll be your fan. You boys have fun."

Deanna watched them walk away from her into the sunlight, the swirling pollen and particles dancing in the beams. Halfway to the field, Ian reached up and slipped his tiny hand into Will's. He didn't look down, but Deanna felt his heart swell alongside her own as he squeezed Ian's hand in return.

Their song floated back to her on the warm breeze, voices low and high, off pitch in different ways.

_I don't care if I never get back!_

* * *

She sat in the dark, knees pulled up to her chest, in the middle of her empty bed, waiting.

Twenty three hundred hours. Night and silence.

_Where are you?_

Deanna reached out with her mind again, expanding the perimeter to encompass the decks around her. From below, the cheerful energy of Ten Forward was overwhelming and she began to retreat back into herself when she felt him. Not from below, but from above, coming from the Bridge in the turbolift. It stopped on Deck 9 and she felt him stride down the hall, tired but with purpose. She held her breath and waited.

He passed her door without even a glance and entered his own quarters. Stunned, Deanna stared out across her bedroom, through her dark living space, and at the black expanse of the shared wall separating them.

She didn't know why she was surprised. She had gotten what she wanted, or what it seemed like she wanted. She was touched he had waited this long to give up on her, but was also insulted that he had given up at all.

Deanna laid her forehead on her knees and tightened her arms around her legs. She was about to drift off to sleep sitting up when she heard it – faintly, tentatively.

Music. Not in her mind at all, but from next door. Music.  _Live_  music.

Will's trombone practice was usually comical, but this tune floated through the wall toward her, sheepishly, humbly. It wasn't his usual jazz, but was so slow and solemn that she couldn't make out the oddly familiar melody.

The tune snaked through the air vents into her cabin and seemed to summon her, twisting in the air like a snake charmer.

Deanna slid out of bed, her pink satin nightgown swirling around her ankles as she crossed the room slowly, gripping the plush carpet with her toes, following the tune as it seemed to retreat back through the vent, pulling her forward.

She laid her left hand against the wall separating her and Will's quarters, then her right ear, and listened. When she finally translated the agonizingly slow string of notes into a recognizable melody, a choked laugh exploded from her before she could stop herself.

_Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack.  
_ _I don't care if I never get back._

Deanna squeezed her eyes shut before her laugh could turn into a sob. The music stopped abruptly and she held her breath as she felt him growing closer. After a moment, the wall beneath her hand seemed to grow warm as he pressed his hand against it from the other side.

The deep nighttime silence stretched out between them and without realizing how she got there, Deanna suddenly found herself in the hallway. She rested her forehead against his door and whispered his name so quietly that no one passing in the hall would hear. She felt him there, patient, just on the other side of the threshold. Her hand hovered over the control pad beside the door, her blue baseball cap hanging from her thumb, and then she rang the chime once, twice, a third time.

When the door slid open, he was there, waiting, just as she knew he'd be. He looked overworked and tired, but mostly deeply sad.

Deanna wasn't sure if her voice would work after a week of non-use, but she looked up into his clouded blue eyes and took a chance.

"Teach me to play baseball."

* * *

Twinkling stars shone brightly in the dark sky, pulsating pinpricks of light amidst the velvety blackness of the simulated universe. A giant moon loomed over the makeshift field, illuminating it perfectly. They crossed the grass slowly, dew dampening the hem of her nightgown and cooling the bottoms of her bare feet. Halfway to the field, Deanna slipped her small hand into Will's. He didn't look down, but Deanna felt his heart ache alongside her own as he squeezed her hand in return. They stopped on the edge of the field and stared out across the grass waving gently in the warm breeze.

Will let go of her hand and picked up the baseball bat lying next to the pillow representing home plate. He looked her over critically. "You're hardly dressed for baseball."

Deanna looked down the length of her pink nightgown to where the grass poked up between her toes. She pulled on her baseball cap. "Better?"

"Perfect." He held the bat out to her. "Go ahead, slugger. Show me what you've got."

Deanna took the bat and settled herself over home plate in her best imitation of what Will had done earlier. He laughed and she frowned. "This is what you looked like."

"I assure you I did not. Carry on."

She arranged her feet in the grass, stamping out a flat spot and bending her knees like she remembered Will instructing Ian. She gripped the bat tightly, rearranged her fingers around the smooth surface, and gripped the bat again, swinging it around behind her head mostly for show. She exhaled and squinted across the field at the automatic pitching machine the Holodeck had programmed.

"You don't have to bend over so far."

"Stop looking at my rear end."

"I can't help it." She glared at him over her shoulder and he shrugged helplessly. "You're bending over too far. You'll fall on your face if you try to swing like that."

She straightened up and let the bat swing at her side. She heaved a sigh that could move the Alaskan mountains just out of sight beyond the field. "You humans and your crazy games."

" _Us_  humans?"

"I vaguely remember my father liking baseball. He liked their teamwork, I suspect. My mother liked their tight pants."

Will chuckled and Deanna turned toward the sky. Her smile faded and the weight of a new thought settled heavily on her shoulders. "What am I going to tell my mother?"

Will watched the moonlight illuminate her features and bounce off her satin nightgown. She glowed in the otherwise dark landscape. "She knows. She can feel it," he said quietly and she nodded.

Deanna stared out into the artificial sky, as if she could see through the Holodeck's gridline walls, beyond the hull of the Enterprise and into the galaxy outside where, somewhere, the mysterious entity was still alive and well. As far as anyone inside the ship was concerned, Ian Andrew Troi II was dead, leaving behind a few sets of outgrown clothes, a purple baseball cap and a tiny trombone, two classmates who were still looking for their new friend, a bereaved mother, and a man who wanted, so desperately that it left him stunned and a bit embarrassed, for him to be his son, but who had known what was inevitable.

"You knew the whole time," she said suddenly and Will's thoughts rushed back behind their walls. He was rarely so careless with them around her and he retrieved the words from the air between them, stuffing them back into their compartments. She smiled sadly at his surprise. It had been a long time since she had read him so easily.

"That he would leave because he was affecting the ship? No."

"You wanted to do so many things with him. To give him so many experiences. So quickly."

Will sighed deeply. "He was aging so fast, Deanna."

"I know," she said after a moment.

He was quiet for a long time. "Let me help you." She nodded again and turned to face the correct way over home plate, raising the baseball bat.

Will stepped up to the plate behind her and reached around her to grip the bat. As soon as his arms went around her, she felt her mental barriers come crashing down and she swayed on her feet, defenseless. She had used all her energy to stay in control over the past week, to build a fortress around her emotions so that she could function and now she was unarmed, exposed. He tightened his arms around her and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"It hurts," she whispered, her voice twisting.

"I know."

Will turned the brim of his baseball cap around to the back so he could press his forehead to her head and she pushed back against him. His chest was solid and his arms were warm. All she wanted was to disappear into him like she used to, but she shook her head. "You can't know."

She felt his heartbeat against her shoulder blade, strong and steady as it had always been, but with an added heaviness. He kissed her cheek and then pressed their temples together. She felt his ragged breath on her bare shoulder. While she thought she was completely overpowered by her feelings and emotions, she hadn't realized that Will's were coming at her through their shared wall, magnifying and multiplying her anguish. She had underestimated his pain.

"Imzadi. I know."

Of course he knew. Just as his emotions were coming through the wall to her, hers were going through the wall to him. She relaxed in his arms and her tense muscles sighed in relief. She felt her agony rise from her in hazy waves, churning in the air, coaxing Will's out into the open where they mingled together above them.

Deanna reached up to cup his cheek. She turned and kissed away the bead of moisture in the corner of his closed eye. She took a deep breath and ran her hand under her own eyes. "Teach me. For Ian." She wedged her hands between his on the baseball bat again. "But I'm not running."

Will smiled and raised the bat in their hands again. He tried to project his instructions to her, clumsily, rusty from years of non-use. He ordered the pitching machine to begin and braced for impact. They swung out of sync and Deanna yelped as she was almost pulled off her feet by Will's strength. The bat vibrated in their hands and the next ball the Holodeck threw at them rushed past their heads before they were ready. They missed twice, they made partial contact and the ball flew high and landed somewhere behind them, they missed again. The Holodeck sent a steady series of baseballs at them and on their next try, they watched the ball bounce pitifully at their feet and roll away. Balls crashed into the outfield and disappeared into the tall grass. They flew wide to the left, then to the right, then hit Will in the shins.

Deanna sighed with frustration and Will stilled, trying to focus. In front of him, Deanna stopped fidgeting and settled herself against him. She laid her arms along his and moved her hands on top of his so he could hold the bat properly. They took a deep breath in tandem, syncing together like they used to. "Give your pain to the ball," he whispered. "Send it away."

Deanna pulled their shared anguish out of the air and pushed it toward the ball whirling toward her, its red stitching spinning it into a pink blur. At the perfect moment, they swung the bat as one, the sharp crack of contact echoing across the landscape, rustling the leaves on the trees and shaking the holographic mountains on their foundation.

Will and Deanna stood unmoving, tangled together in the gently waving grass, and watched the ball climb into the night sky until it disappeared entirely. Deanna imagined the baseball soaring into space, leaving the simulated atmosphere, floating into the abyss and meeting a mysterious alien entity, who knew what it was and who remembered them.

**Author's Note:**

> A friend and I were over-analyzing Riker in this episode (I won't get into it) and came to the conclusion that we really just wanted scenes of him being Fake Dad to Ian.
> 
> I don't know much about baseball, but I do know about Philadelphia sports fans. Yikes.
> 
> Inspiration from the "X-Files" episode 'The Unnatural' totally obvious and totally intentional.
> 
> My first attempt at a "TNG" fic and my first fic in a few years - it feels good to be back in the game!


End file.
